


Beloved

by paradiamond



Category: Snowpiercer (2013)
Genre: Gen, attempted sexual abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2587652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradiamond/pseuds/paradiamond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one taught Grey how to love, he had to learn it by himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Amato

“Love you,” a woman says, putting her face close to the face of a child, who smiles up at her. 

“Love you too,” the boy parrots. They look alike, sticking close to each other as they wind their way through the storage area, heading to safer parts of the tail. Probably heading to Gilliam’s area. Families tend to gravitate towards the man. The weak. Grey watches it all from his perch, high up in the shelves. 

His mother didn’t love him like that mother loves her son. If she did she wouldn’t have died. Grey shakes his head to get the fringe out of his eyes. He doesn’t need a mother. He doesn’t need anyone. 

Grey doesn’t remember much about growing up or the people who took care of him. He knows that those people were not his parents, and that they were often not the same people as the year before. He knows people die all the time, and children get passed around to be kept alive. He knows that as soon as he could, Grey took care of himself. 

If he had anything to say about it, Grey would say that he was raised by the train. 

He sticks to the back of the lines for count, feet shorter than everyone else. Vulnerable. Most of the children died in the starving time. Only the few loved ones with strong parents survived, like the boy and his mother. At first, when he was very small, it was not unusual for one of the kinder people to try to pat his hair or give him things, but they were few and far between, and mostly old. They all died soon enough, and Grey never wanted anything from them. 

For a few months, a younger woman decides to make him into her project. Tanya, she’s called. Grey hears her name from the people talking to her. Grey watches her from under bunks and inside barrels as she tries to find him, strangely persistent. She has a man who follows her around, watching her back as she roots through the cars, calling Grey’s name. 

“Tanya,” he calls out to her, frowning, his dark eyes darting around the dark cars. “The kid doesn’t want to be found.” 

“He’s like six years old Steven, he doesn’t know what he wants,” Tanya says, peering into one of the barrels. Behind her, Steven rubs a hand over his face, lined and tired looking. 

“Look, I know you looked out for him for a little bit but it’s not your-” 

Tanya straightens to glare at him. “If you’re not actually gonna help you don’t have to,” she says, putting her hands on her hips. “I’m not making you do this.” 

“Fine.” He pulls one of the barrels over and looks into it. “Let’s find the kid.” 

Grey frowns down at them from where he’s perched in the shelves, uncomprehending. Steven should just leave her behind. Tanya shouldn’t be looking for him in the first place. He shakes his head, listening to Tanya call for him again. 

Avoiding them is easy, he has the whole train. Eventually they stop looking for him and Grey relaxes his guard a bit, though whenever Tanya sees him she smiles, no matter how much Grey ignores her. He just doesn’t understand it. 

He haunts the ceiling and watches the people move around on the floor. Sorting through the mix of faces and languages is easy for him, and learns them all. There isn’t a face in the tail that Grey doesn’t know, not a word he can’t understand. Not that he can respond to them. Not that he _wants_ to in any case. 

Other people are nothing to him. Noises. Occasionally touches, but Grey puts a stop to those early, biting and scratching his way to freedom. Then he starts to grow and people start to truly leave him alone, the curiosity in their eyes replaced by nervousness, and fear. Anything he needs, he takes. If people know, they never try to stop him, staring at him from across train cars with veiled disgust if they ever manage to see him. Grey makes sure that people hardly ever see him. 

Grey gets everything he needs from the train. As he gets older he starts to want things. Some of the things he wants are the things the guards have, and those things that lie beyond the gates that Grey only sort of understands. Other things are within his reach. 

He creeps along the shelves and bunks, careful not to draw attention to himself, heading steadily for the back of the train. Some of the people must see him, but no one pays him any mind. Once he reaches the very final car, he perches on an old, unused bunk, abandoned because it’s right next to the reeking ventilation shaft, and settles in to wait. 

Within forty five minutes, the lights dim almost entirely, the signal for sleep. The train seems to give a long sigh, the collective change in the atmosphere of the tail. For Grey, night is the time to work, and he waits another hour to be sure before he slinks over towards the very end. 

Tonight there’s no guard at the entrance to Gilliam’s curtained off room making it ridiculously easy for Grey to slip inside unnoticed. 

The room is underwhelming, but new to Grey, who has no use for leaders. It’s the one place in the entire tail section that he had never been. He had seen Gilliam of course, everybody knows him, but though Gilliam was open to visitors Grey had never come. He checks to make sure Gilliam is sleeping, curled up in a pile of blankets. No bunk. 

Satisfied, Grey starts searching through his things, doing his best to stay silent. Gilliam has all kind of strange objects that Grey can’t identify, as well as many familiar ones. It strikes him as odd that the room is not nicer, or at least more cluttered. Grey frowns. Surely, as leader, Gilliam could take all the best things for himself. 

A thrill goes up the back of Grey’s neck and he whirls, his hand going to his pocket to close around his knife. 

Gilliam is sitting up, watching him with a vaguely amused expression. “Can I help you, young man?” 

Grey’s heart pounds, but he keeps himself still. Will he have to kill him? The rest of the train does what he says, and if he tells them that Grey threatened him…

“Why don’t you sit down and tell me what you’re looking for?” Gilliam asks, tapping the floor with his umbrella handle. Grey eyes him, still suspicious, and Gilliam laughs quietly. “I promise I mean you no harm.” 

Grey just stares at him, frozen in place for several tense minutes. Tense for Grey at least. Gilliam didn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest. 

At length, Grey carefully lowered himself to the floor, keeping the same amount of distance between them. Gilliam smiles. “There now.” He tosses a blanket in Grey’s general direction, which makes him flinch. “Here. You must be cold, running around in just that.” 

Grey just shrugs, pulling the blanket towards him. Gilliam tilts his head. “Can you speak?” 

He shakes his head and Gilliam nods in understanding. “Well then Grey, it’s nice to meet you.” Grey blinks, caught off guard. “So. What was it you wanted?”

Something about the way the man looks at him, the opposite of how the other people look at him, puts Grey off balance. He doesn’t like it. Shrugging, he turns his attention back to the room, still looking. He wonders if he can leave without Gilliam trying to get him back. Gilliam laughs again. 

“I can’t help you if you won’t tell me.” 

Grey shoots him a dark look, suddenly angry. He doesn’t _know_ how to talk to people. But Gilliam’s patience is seemingly endless, he just watches and wait until Grey finally moves. He puts his hands together, then opens then from the sides, staring intently down at them. 

Gilliam nods, understanding in his eyes. “I have several. You must be what? Ten by now, is that correct?” 

Grey shrugs as Gilliam turns to open a box that Grey hadn’t seen, hidden in the shadows and pulls out several books. Grey puts out his hands but Gilliam holds onto them, stroking their spines. “Tell me Grey, can you read?” 

Grey shakes his head, flexing his outstretched hands to make sure Gilliam sees them. Doesn’t he understand that Grey needs to book so that he can learn? Amusement crosses Gilliam’s face. “Very well. If you ever want help-” 

But Grey has already darted forward and snatched the book out of his hands, disappearing back into the rest of the train. 

Newly occupied, Grey spends much of his time lying on his stomach underneath the bunks, trying to make sense of the shapes and lines. Around him, something is happening. People are moving with new purpose and things are getting shifted around. He pays them no mind, wrapped up in his own world. Reading is much harder than Grey thought it would be. The book is useless, just a collection of paper stuck together with squiggles all over it. He pushes it away, wondering why he ever wanted to learn. 

Frustrated, he puts his head down on his arms and kicks his legs absently. He’ll just trade the book. Some things in the tail are too valuable not to cause a riot if they go missing. They need to be traded for. Books are valuable enough to get something good as long as he takes it to someone who doesn’t care what Gilliam thinks. 

Suddenly he’s being pulled backwards, out from under the bed. Grey tries to twist away from the grip on his leg, but only succeeds in smashing his head against the metal frame of the bunk. Whoever has a hold on him curses, dropping to the ground to press his hands against Grey’s head. In pain and scared, Grey lashes out, feeling his fist connect with something. 

“Hey!” the man yells, grabbing Grey’s legs again. “Dammit kid just hold still I’m not trying to hurt you!” 

He pushes Grey into the corner formed by the wall and the bunk and then puts his hands up where Grey can see them. Grey flattens himself against the fall, breathing hard. He stares up at the man and finally recognizes him as Steven, Tanya’s man. He narrows his eyes. 

Steven settles back on his heels. “Jesus kid. You’re a piece of work you know that?” Grey doesn’t move, keeping himself perfectly balanced, ready to run. Steven reaches into his jacket, and Grey tenses, but he pulls out a small rectangle. He holds it up for Grey to see. Playing cards. Not the official kind that people talk about, but the type made in the train. 

“Ok,” Steven says, slowly bending at the knees to set the stack down on the floor. Grey snatches it up so fast he blinks, momentarily caught off guard. “Right. Here’s the deal. I give you those cards and you do something for me.” 

Grey raises an eyebrow at him, wondering why he can’t see they Grey already _has_ the cards. Steven is still looking at him with expectation. Finally Grey nods, eager to get away from him. “Good. What I want to for you to go to Tanya and thank her for helping you when you were a baby.” 

Grey frowns. Why would he care about that? Steven shifts forward slightly, prompting Grey to press himself farther back. Steven runs a hand over his head, sighing. “Look. For god only know what reason, I think this would mean a lot to her and she means a lot to me. So I’m reaching out here.” 

The silence stretches between them. Then, after a few seconds of turning the cards around and around in his hands, Grey starts to lean forward. He moves slowly, enticing Steven to lean forward too. Then he spits right at Steven’s feet and jumps up, sprinting away from him. “Oh- you fuckin’ animal!” he yells after him, but Grey is already gone. 

It’s not until lights out, hours later, that Grey realizes that he left Gilliam’s book under the bunk.


	2. Agapi̱tós

Grey feels Steven watching him at count over the next few days, though he doesn’t make a move to confront him. Probably because Steven is standing next to Tanya and he never makes a scene in front of her. Grey sticks to the shadows of some of the bigger men, Luca and Tyler, who keep whispering to each other in german like Grey can’t understand them, talking about the ‘secret’ rebellion. Tanya keeps shooting him furtive glances but Grey barely pays her any mind, too caught up in his bigger problem. 

When Grey went back to the bunk he’d been hiding under, Gilliam’s book was gone, probably stolen by Steven. But wherever he had hidden it, Grey hadn’t been able to find it, which infuriated him. No one knows the train like Grey. No one should be able to hide things from him. 

The train should belong to Grey, and Steven had ruined it for him. Eying Steven suspiciously while they stand in line, Grey keeps him in front of him at all times as he collects his protein bar, paying such close attention to Steven’s movements that he misses Gilliam entirely until it’s too late. 

“Grey, good to see you,” Gilliam says from directly behind him. Grey startles, whirling around to glare up at his face. Gilliam smiles down at him. “How are you enjoying the book?” 

Grey glances around the car and sees a few people staring at them in confusion. Tyler and Luca shuffle away, out of the spotlight, avoiding the spectacle of the great leader speaking to the animal kid. The man standing behind Gilliam, Grey remembers him as Curtis, shoots Grey a critical look. People don’t usually talk to Grey, and especially not the important people. Gilliam is still clearly waiting for a response, so Grey nods once, not meeting his eyes. Regret over the loss of the book stings him and he resists the urge to glare at Steven.

“Good, good,” Gilliam says, picking up a protein block. He doesn’t make a face or look away from it like some of the other adults do. “A Tale of Two Cities, an excellent place to start.” 

Next to him, Curtis picks up his own block and looks down on Grey with a frown. From behind him, a skinny kid about Grey’s size pokes his head out. “Rat kid can read?” he asks, tilting his head. Curtis shushes him, but Grey doesn’t care. 

He looks away, spotting Steven notice the situation too and start to make his way over. Grey turns back to Gilliam, bobs his head in a sort of bow and makes a run for it, ignoring Steven yelling after him. Gilliam just lets him go, and Grey thinks he even hears him laugh. 

Grey hides in the spaces between all the barrels in the storage section with the kronole man, who tolerates his presence in exchange for Grey occasionally helping him with moving his supply. He likes to keep it constantly moving to keep it from getting stolen, which is smart, even if the kronole itself is stupid. 

Grey doesn’t like kronole, he doesn’t like what it does to his senses, so he keeps a rag tied over his face when he comes here. The kronole man just laughs at him and tries to ruffle his hair. Sometimes Grey has to bite him to get him to stop. Sometimes he doesn’t even recognize Grey, or calls him ‘Andreas’ and cries. Today is one of those days. 

“Andreas,” he says, voice scratchy and low. “Comere’ love and help your father with something.” The kronole man, whose name Grey had never bothered to find out, reaches out for him and Grey swats it away. The man frowns, but then his gaze drifts off and he’s gone again, lost in the haze. 

Grey gives him a flat look and peers out of the crack between the barrels. No one appears to be searching for him, but that might just mean that they’re good at hiding it. He scrunches himself back down and resolves to wait. He glances down at the floor and sees the kronole man asleep. He’s so stupid. If Grey wanted to, he could kill him. Take his place as kronole distributer. Be an important part of the trade. He just rolls his eyes and peers through the crack again. 

He emerges at lights out, shaking himself off and stretching his cramped limbs. Recently his arms and legs hurt more than usual but he doesn’t know why. Winching slightly, he jogs to the shelves and hoists himself up to go to sleep between the crates. As he drifts off, faces flash in his mind. Gilliam, Steven, Curtis, the kronole man, and he frowns. He decides he’s had enough of people to last him a lifetime. 

Despite his resolve, Grey wakes the next morning with another idea of the book’s possibly location that he just can’t ignore. _Tanya_. If Steven couldn’t have what he wanted from Grey, wouldn’t he bring her the next best thing he could find? Grey drops to the floor, startling a woman heading for the back of the train, and makes for the bunks. 

He spends most of the day watching Tanya from the other side of the car, hunched down in a corner and wrapped up so that she won’t recognize him even if she does look up. She lives in the most densely populated area of the tail section that Grey tends to avoid, far away from the bathroom and storage areas. The nice people area. 

Tanya spends most of her time near her bunk, working on projects and making things, so it will be tricky to go through her stuff. She’s clearly keeping herself busy. At any given moment, Grey can see two or three projects being passed around or worked on, ranging from sewing to mechanical. People come to her in waves, smiling and touching. The kid from the day before, the one that called Grey ‘rat’, is constantly running up to her, chattering about nothing. She smiles down at him indulgently and pats his hair. Grey narrows his eyes and hunches down further. 

Finally, she leaves, heading off to the back of the train to bring one of the dying old people something. She walks right past him and doesn’t even notice. Grey shakes his head and stands, making his way over to her bunk as casually as possible. He walks by, but he can see already that there are too many people around for him to do a proper search. He’ll have to come back later. Turning back to head for the tail or the tail, Grey freezes, spotting Tanya coming back in through the door already. She blinks, and he knows that she sees him. 

If she had chased him, Grey probably would have run. As it is, she just gave him a speculative look and approaches him slowly, not even looking straight at him the entire time. Grey watches her the whole way, ready to jump away if she makes a grab for him. She’d been unpredictable in the past. She sets her bag down on her bunk and glances down at him. “Hello Grey.” 

Apparently today she’s feeling more reasonable. Grey nods his head, avoiding her eyes and taking the opportunity to look at her bunk again. Tanya moves, and he tenses, but she’s leaning away from him. She doesn’t smile down at him, which Grey appreciates. He never knows what to do when people smile at him. “Haven’t seen you in a while. What are you, about eleven by now?” He shrugs. “Well. You’re looking healthy.” 

He nods his head again and points to her. This time she does smile. “Me too? Is that what you’re saying?” He nods for a third time and she laughs. “Well I’m glad to see you alive, I was beginning to wonder about you.” 

Grey knows she’s lying, because she watching him all the time so clearly she knew he was alive, but he doesn’t try to tell her that. There’s no point in trying to stop people from lying. She sits down on her bunk. “Can I help you with something?” 

Grey stares at her, considering. Steven is clearly his enemy, and he belongs to Tanya, but Tanya had always seemed to like Grey for some reason. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, unsure. She waits for him without saying anything, which Grey likes. He eyes her critically. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he wants that book. 

Finally, he holds his hands together and opens them the way he’d done with Gilliam, and after a moment of face scrunching Tanya nods. “A book?” 

Grey nods and Tanya tilts her head. “Can you even read?” 

Grey hesitates, glancing around the bunk again. Then he shakes his head, feeling uncomfortably hot all of a sudden. Tanya’s hand flickers out for a second, like she’s going to touch him, but she snatches it right back. “You know Grey, I used to look out for you after...when you needed it.” Grey bobs his head, still looking for the book, though he’s starting to think that she really doesn’t have it. She notices his preoccupation. “I don’t have any books.” 

Disappointed, Grey jumps off the bunk. “But,” Tanya calls out, making Grey turn. “I could still teach you to read so you can enjoy it when you find one. I teach some of the other kids.” 

He hesitates, standing at the corner of her bunk, wondering what she’s going want to pay for the lessons, when suddenly something crashes into him and sends him falling over and onto the floor. The weight doesn’t leave his back and Grey scrambles, biting and kicking until he’s free of it. Tanya yells out, grabbing at the thing that hit him. “Edgar! What have I said about the jumping on people- Grey! Wait!” But he’s already gone, feet pounding against the metal of the floor. 

The book stays missing and so does Grey, keeping to the very high and very low places. Tanya doesn’t look for him this time. No one does. They don’t have the time. What started as whispers in the dark start to develop into plans, which gradually shift into actual preparations for revolt. Grey stays out of it entirely, keeps away from all the people, scavenging and watching in the shadows. 

He’s done with people.


	3. Geliebte

After the disaster that was trying to deal with other people Grey puts the book, and wanting to read at all, behind him and decides to focus on his other goals. Grey has no intention of staying the way he is forever. He practices running, jumping, and fighting. He’s still small, only nearly thirteen years, but growing fast. There are things he wants and Grey doesn’t see why he can’t have them if he works at it. No one else can match him, which is good. If he’s going to make it to the front he has to be better than the best of the tail. 

“Hey, watch it!” someone yells after him as he sprints through the car, making a grab for him that he dodges easily. Once, Merrick got a hold of him and slapped him so hard Grey’s teeth hurt for hours. But that was last year. He’s much better now, older and faster. After over twelve journeys around the track Grey is still small enough to slip past most obstacles, but has started to gain his strength. 

It’s only a matter of time until he can execute his plan. Grey just has to wait for the proper moment. Until then it’s day in and day out, always watching and waiting. Keeping out of the center of things, which usually means keeping to the ceiling. Only the train babies ever think to look up most of the time. 

The revolt is still being planned, though the whispers Grey overhears have taken on the edge of near religious fervor. He crouches on top of bed posts and ventilation shafts and listens. It’s always, ‘McGregor will protect us’ and ‘execute Wilford’. Grey spends his time in dark corners and watches with sharp eyes. He never notices someone new watching him until it’s too late. 

“Kid, Grey!” The voice comes from behind as Grey moves back into the tail proper after count, soon followed by a hand wrapped around his arm. Grey jolts, reaching for his knife immediately, but the man smacks it out of his hand, quick for his large size. “Cut it out ok, I just wanna talk.” He picks Grey’s knife up for himself and backs them both into a corner, using his larger frame to box Grey in. 

Grey narrows his eyes, giving a token struggle that the man ignores, sending glances up and down the car. Grey glares up at him, considering. The man is tall with light hair, light skin, and dark eyes. Grey knows who he is of course, but he’s nothing to him. Just some soldier in McGregor’s army named Luca. He squeezes Grey’s arm, hard and biting into his bone, but Grey doesn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing him flinch. 

Luca leans down, getting closer to Grey’s face but staying far enough away so Grey can’t bite him. He must know that Grey has bitten people before. Luca moves the hand not holding his arm away from the wall, using it to gesture between them, and leaving an open space. “Here’s the thing kid, I think you’re a smart little shit, but you don’t got no one to look out for you. Yeah?”

Grey doesn’t try to respond, just keeps his gaze even and unafraid. Sometimes people will leave him alone if he keeps still enough. This doesn't seem like one of those times.

The man laughs. “Yeah. Like that. But see,” he leans closer to Grey but there’s nowhere for Grey to move to get away from him, so he presses himself firmly to the wall, heart pounding. Luca settles his free hand loosely on Grey’s shoulder, still holding Grey’s knife. Close to his neck. “Up until now you’ve had the cute kid thing goin’ for you, but you won’t make it for much longer if you don’t have someone looking out for you. So I’m trying to make you an offer, understand?” 

Grey just nods, slowly, biding his time. He has a broken piece of glass in his shoe he can use if he can get to it. Luca doesn’t look like he’s letting Grey go anytime soon. “Good.” He says, moving even closer. “Now, let’s...talk terms. You’re a pretty little thing, I think we could figure something out.” 

Luca slides his hand from Grey’s shoulder to not around Grey’s neck like he’d feared, but down, across his chest and even lower. For a moment, Grey stops breathing, starkly confused. He knows what sex is, living on top of so many people, but no one had tried to have it with him before. Luca bears his teeth. “Come on, we all need someone to _love_.” 

Behind him, someone yells, making Luca turn his head. Grey seizes the opportunity and raises his leg so he can grab the shard from his sock with his free hand, swinging it around immediately to stab Luca in the arm that’s holding him, making contact at the crook of his elbow. Luca screams, letting go of Grey’s arm and bending over in pain. Grey braces a hand on his shoulder and vaults over him, landing on his feet and immediately crashing into the person that had yelled, knocking him back into Luca for an awful second before he can regain his balance.

It’s Curtis, the man who spends so much time with Gilliam and the kid that called Grey ‘rat’. He reaches out to drag Grey away from Luca but Luca gets him first, screaming and making a wild swing with the knife that catches Grey in the face, narrowly missing his eye. In pain and shaking, Grey jumps on him without thinking, aiming for his neck with the shard. He doesn’t miss. 

There’s a long, silent second in which Grey is still crouched over Luca’s twitching body, blood dripping down his face, before Curtis kicks the glass right out of his hand and wrestles him up from the ground, cursing like mad. Grey lets himself be dragged away without a second glance, pressing his hand to his burning face. It comes away bloody. Grey can feel it drip down his cheeks. 

“Kid, kid? Are you ok?” Curtis is saying to him, shaking him by the shoulder, and Grey realizes that they’ve stopped moving. Other people are starting to approach them, forming a loose circle. He dimly hear Curtis telling someone to get Gilliam. 

“He killed him!” someone yells, though Grey doesn’t see his face. His vision is blurred by the blood, and he has a moment of dry panic at the thought that he might be blinded in that eye. Another person yells back, something about Luca deserving it, and then a third joins in. It’s loud. 

Grey is swaying on his feet, half leaning against the wall. There’s nothing for him to climb, and he can’t see well enough to make a run for it. He blinks to try to clear his vision and sees the kid Curtis looks after, the one that tackled him when he was looking for the book at Tanya’s place, standing next to Curtis, his face pale as the dead man’s. Edgar, Grey remembers his name, and feels a surge of anger towards him for staring at him like he’s some kind of _thing_. Grey lurches forward and spits as hard as he can in Edgar’s direction, the spit mixed with the blood that had gotten in his mouth. 

Someone gasps. Edgar stumbles back, sending a shocked look in Grey’s direction before spinning on his heels to run away. Curtis lets go of Grey to yell after him, giving Grey the opportunity to run. 

He pushes through the crowd, his progress made easier by the fact that none of the others seem to want to touch him, flinching away when he gets near. Grey makes it to the storage car and jumps into the first barrel he sees, not trusting himself to climb the shelves without falling yet. It’s blind luck that the kronole man is in another one, talking to himself and occasionally making some odd sound, like crying. Grey ignores him, straining to hear the other sounds of the train. 

He listens hard, but despite all the yelling, no one finds him. The rest of his day is spent hiding and trying to get his face to stop bleeding. He finds some spare fabric at the bottom of a barrel and uses it as a bandage, trying it tightly around his head. Then he settles in to wait, holding onto his legs to keep his hands from shaking too badly. 

The other passengers probably want him dead. He killed another tail sectioner, they’ll be out for his blood. The thought sends a bolt of fear through him. He’s good, but there’s no way he can stay hidden forever. 

Grey peeks through the space between the barrels. People are starting to move through the car, making their way to the front for the next count. He bites his lip, considering his options. This might be his only opportunity, and he doesn’t think anyone would risk killing him in front of all the guards, but if he waits they could find him. They will find him eventually. It has to be now. 

Bracing himself against the pain in his face and the spinning in his head when he moves, Grey climbs out of the barrel and makes for the front of the tail, moving fast and keeping his head down. He steps over Luca’s body, which is still lying in a puddle on the floor of the fourth car. Some people stare, but no one tries to stop him. 

The lines have already formed, waiting impatiently for the guards to come and make them kneel. Clamoring for food. Grey sticks close to the wall and sneaks up to the very front line, keeping the door directly in front of him. People murmur around him, sending him little glances. Grey risks a look behind him and sees Curtis staring over at him, face set in hard lines. Tanya is standing next to him, leaning up to say something in his ear. 

Grey turns away and fervently wishes that the doors would open faster. The muttering around him dies down and then suddenly Curtis has his hand wrapped around Grey’s arm, just like Luca’s was. Grey struggles, but Curtis drops down to one knee, putting himself at eye level with Grey. “Where the hell have you-” 

The doors open and the guards step in, forcing Curtis to stand, though he leaves his hand resting loosely on Grey’s shoulder. Loose enough to shake off. 

Grey keeps his eyes on the doors, one opening after another. He licks his lips, sliding one foot forward. “Grey,” Curtis warns, voice low. “What-” 

But Grey is already springing forward, throwing himself towards the doors.


	4. Saiai

Everything hurts. 

It’s all he’s capable of thinking about. Grey takes a shuddering breath and tries not to scream. He doesn’t know where or when he is, he doesn’t understand what happened to him. Later, he’ll wonder why they didn’t kill him. He’ll be angry that he only made it through three gates, not even close to his goal. But at the moment Grey can’t focus on anything but the pain. 

Minute after agonizing minute goes by, and as Grey gains some of his self awareness back, he finally realizes that it’s dark because his eyes are closed and he can’t open them. They’re two of the many parts of his body he has no control over at the moment. Panic starts to take hold, and he struggles against his own weakness, hearing a choked off sound from what seems like very far away. 

There is a pressure on his shoulders that cuts through the pain. “Easy, easy.” Cool hands stroke his face, and Grey freezes. 

“Is he awake?” another voice calls out, far too close to him. For a horrible second he can’t place either of them and he wonders if he’ll ever know anything again or if that’s another thing the front sectioners have taken from him. 

“Getting there,” the woman says, and Grey finally recognizes her voice- Tanya. With the realization that he’s still in the tail section comes other knowledge. The other voice belongs to Curtis. Grey feels sick, wondering if they’ll kill him now or later. Not even Tanya will want to protect him, he saw her talking to Curtis right before count. He manages to blink and his vision starts to clear. Her face gradually comes into focus. 

Movement to his left draws Grey’s attention, but all he sees is badly patched shoes before they disappear behind a curtain. “I’ll get Gilliam,” Curtis calls back. 

Tanya touches his face again, and Grey flinches back. Her hands leave him immediately. She chuckles good naturedly. “Sorry, I know you don’t really like to be touched too much.” 

Grey stares up at her, unmoving. His face, which had hurt so badly before, is barely noticeable in comparison to his other pain. The guards must have had him beaten before throwing him back into the tail. What Grey doesn’t understand is why they left him alive at all. 

“Ah, Grey.” Gilliam’s voice floats down from the makeshift doorway. “Good to see that you’re finally awake. You gave us quite the scare.” 

Grey twitches in his direction, confused and unable to fully move. There are too many people in the space. Being crowded into small spaces doesn’t usually bother Grey, but in his current vulnerable state it sets his heart pounding. He wants his high places, his secret barrels or his under the bed spots. Gilliam seems to sense this, because he gestures for Tanya to back away. “If you wouldn’t mind my dear.” 

“Sure thing,” Tanya says, casting Grey one final glance as she steps out of the space, which he ignores. 

Gilliam settles himself on the floor at a respectable distance from Grey, his umbrella handle resting against his knee. “You are quite the lucky young man, do you know that?” 

Grey shrugs as best he can, which isn’t very much, and notices that there’s a bandage on his leg and one on his chest too, which is odd since they’re going to kill him. Gilliam smiles reflexively. “I suppose you do. May I ask what were you trying to accomplish?” 

Suspicious, Grey stares at Gilliam for several silent minutes. Gilliam is looking at him the way he did the first time Grey snuck into his room, all calm and patient, not like the other people. He didn’t like it before, not he’s not sure what to feel. Maybe Gilliam won’t kill him at all. Maybe he wanted Luca dead for some reason and Grey did him a favor. Eventually he decides to just respond and see what happens. He glances meaningfully at the large metal ‘W’ in the wall. 

Gilliam follows his gaze and laughs quietly. “Ah I see. Were you going to take over leadership of the train? You’re an ambitious one. Perhaps that would have been for the best. Maybe a twelve year old leader is just what we need. Or are you thirteen?” 

Grey snorts and looks away. All he had meant is that he would go where Wilford was and hide like he always does, like he’s good at. It’s not his fault that he couldn’t hide while running from the guards. Done with trying to communicate with the old man, Grey sets about investigating the damage to his body. His face still hurts from where Luca caught him with the knife but not too badly anymore. There’s something wrong with his left leg, probably from the beating, but the other one is fine. His shoulder carries a lingering pain that Grey doesn’t understand, and when he touches it he can tell that it’s swollen. 

“It was dislocated,” Gilliam says in his rasping weak voice that grates on Grey’s nerves, and ignores it when Grey shoots him an annoyed look. “We had to put it back into place for you. You also have some damage to your leg, we think a guard stepped on you, and you may have bruised ribs. Don’t sit up.” He smiles again, looking wryly amused. “You also sustained a cut to your face earlier, near to your eye but it missed. As I said, you’re a lucky young man. You might be missing part of your eyebrow though.”

Grey shrugs again, with more success this time. He doesn’t understand why it’s funny. He doesn’t understand why he should even care about his eyebrow, it’s not like they do anything. 

Voices drift in from outside the curtain and Grey nearly jumps. Hidden away in Gilliam’s place it’s almost like there aren’t any other people, but of course that’s impossible. Grey cranes his neck to see, but there’s only the curtain. To his horror, Gilliam calls them inside and Grey feels unaccountably betrayed. Sweat starts to drip down his neck, and he curls his hands reflexively, though of course they’ve taken his weapons. He can’t do anything to protect himself as Curtis walks back in, he can’t even sit up. 

“Hey, Gilliam,” Curtis says, and sits down, putting himself closer to Grey’s level. “Hi, Grey. How are you doing?”

Grey narrows his eyes at him, unwilling to show any fear and Curtis sighs. “That good huh?” 

“He’ll be fine, he’s a very resilient boy,” Gilliam answers for him, leaning back against the wall. Clearly he trusts Curtis. Grey doesn’t trust either of them. 

“Yeah I can see that,” Curtis says and very obviously looking Grey over. Grey glares at him and Curtis cracks a smile. 

“I have some business to attend to.” Gilliam starts to rise to his feet, one of which is the sawed off base of a table leg, a starving time repair job. Grey had heard all about it over the years despite the fact that no one seems to talk about it much. Curtis offers him a hand and Gilliam uses it to pull himself up. “Thank you, will you look after Grey for a while?” 

Curtis agrees mildly. Grey makes a face, but it makes sense. Of course they’ll want to keep someone back there to guard him, he killed someone. Gilliam shuffles out through the curtain, shooting Grey one last kind look as he passes which Grey ignores, too focused on watching Curtis watch him. He hears Gilliam laugh quietly, and then the curtain swings back into place. Curtis sighs and leans against the back wall of the train. 

“This is nice isn’t it?” Curtis asks after a while and Grey tries to raise and eyebrow but it hurts. He forgot about his face wound. Curtis waves a hand. “Sorry, I forget sometimes. I meant the privacy. Gilliam’s place. It’s almost like being alone. Not that you would know what that’s even like, but you can probably imagine it.” 

He’s not looking at Grey anymore and Grey wonders if this is going to be like when he sits with the kronole man. Maybe Curtis is going to sit and talk to Grey about things he hardly understands and definitely doesn’t care about just because he’s the easiest person in the whole wide train to talk to. Maybe that’s what they’re keeping him alive for. He guesses it’s better than being dead, but Grey was supposed to be in the front by now, reading books and eating different foods. Having his own little place. Now he’s here instead. 

Curtis abruptly refocuses on him. “Sorry, I got kind of distracted. That’s not what I wanted to say anyway.” He stares at Grey until Grey moves, seeming to require a response to keep going. He reaches up and takes off his hat. 

Curtis sighs. “Look, I’m sorry that you got hurt and that I didn’t look after you like I did for Edgar. Tanya tried, but, you know.” Curtis glances away. “We kind of lost you, but I should have tried harder. It was easier to just let you go, so I did. I’m sorry.” 

Grey stares up at him and Curtis looks back. He doesn’t know what kind of face to make so he just stays flat. Sometimes it unsettles people enough that they leave him alone, but it doesn’t work on Curtis. That makes sense, because Curtis doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t seems to react the right way to anything, kind of like Tanya. 

There’s a rustling by the curtain and suddenly the scrappy kid that always follow Curtis around has his head poked in the space. Grey has to crane his neck to look at him, but his hands are still outside of the little room so he can’t tell if he has any weapons or not. Curtis sits up straight and glares. “Edgar, I said stay outside.” 

Edgar ducks his head but takes a step into the space. “I know, but everyone wants to know if he’s dead or not-” 

“Shut up, Edgar,” Curtis growls and Grey’s hands scrape against the floor as he tries to push himself up, thinking to put his back against the wall at least, but Curtis’ hand lands on his shoulder. “No Grey, it’s fine.” 

Edgar stares down at him, wide eyed. “What’s wrong with him?” 

Curtis rolls his eyes, still pressing down on Grey. “He got stabbed, and beat up.” 

“Right.” His gaze bounces between Grey and Curtis frantically. “Uh, actually, Tanya sent me back here, but it’s ok-”

“Why?” Curtis asks, frowning. 

Edgar bites his lip. “She wanted me to apologize.” 

Curtis makes a frustrated noise. “For what?” 

“For calling Grey names, and stuff. Since he’s hurt.” 

Curtis runs a hand over his face and puts his hat back on. “Ok, fine.” 

“Ok.” Edgar eyes Grey nervously. “I’m sorry I jumped on you and called you a rat, and uh, also for all the other times I called you a rat even though you weren’t there.” 

Curtis scoffs. “Edgar, what the hell?”

“What?” Edgar nearly yells. It makes Grey jump. Edgar reaches up and rubs at his short hair. He continues at a more reasonable volume. “I’m just trying to be nice.” 

“Yeah well, you’re not succeeding,” Curtis responds, but he’s smiling. Grey just watches them through narrow eyes until Edgar turns to him again.

“I _am_ sorry. Are we all good Grey?” he asks, his expression open and his body completely undefended. He’s dirty and dumb and Grey doesn’t like him. He nods anyway. Edgar smiles, showing his teeth. “Ok.” 

“Great, you can go now Edgar, Grey needs rest.” 

Edgar makes a face but starts moving back towards the curtain. “Fine, fine. I’ll tell everyone you’re still alive Grey. You’re like the train badass now.” Grey doesn’t want him to do that since really he’s the train murderer, but Edgar is already gone. Grey stares after him, confused and angry, especially since he can’t do anything about it with his currently useless body. 

“Yeah, that’s how he makes me feel most of the time too,” Curtis says, visibly amused and Grey shifts his stare to him again. “He’s a good kid, he’s just a little much sometimes.” 

Curtis seems to try to smile, but it’s more like a grimace. He’s clearly waiting for a response. Grey closes his eyes and tries to make his muscles relax. He listens better when he shuts his eyes, and people talk more if they think he’s asleep. The trick is not actually falling asleep, which is hard because everything hurts so much, it would be easy to sleep. But he can’t risk it. Grey holds still and stays quiet, and Curtis does the same until Gilliam comes back. 

Gilliam chuckles when he enters. “Is he asleep?” 

“Might be, he’s been like that for a while,” Curtis says, his voice pitched low.

“Well just leave him be, I’ll keep him back here for now,” Gilliam says and Grey can hear the scrapes and groans of him lowering himself to the floor. 

Curtis hums. “Are we going to have any problems?” 

“I don’t think so,” Gilliam murmurs. 

“A lot of people saw what happened.” There’s a dull thump which Grey decides is Curtis leaning against the wall. Flesh against metal, like Luca hitting the floor. 

“And that helps us. Luca was becoming out of control.” 

“I knew something was wrong with him.” Curtis makes a noise like a growl. “We should have put a stop to it years ago.” 

“Years ago he wasn’t that bad.” 

Curtis snorts. “Tell that to the kid.” 

Gilliam hums and falls silent. Grey keeps still but not too still, mimicking the small sleep movements he’s noticed while watching others over the years. He can hear Curtis shifting around, Gilliam breathing evenly, and farther down the train car he can hear everyone else. No one seems to be coming their way yet. He’s likely safe for the moment. 

Grey keeps listening, letting himself relax slightly. He hears a baby crying and a woman speak to it. He hears two people having sex. He hears two children playing together. 

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep.


	5. Mylimasis

Grey wakes up all at once, shocked by a sudden jolt to his injuries caused by the rocking of the train. He gasps and tries to roll over but a hand catches him before he can more than halfway there. His eyes flutter open, wide with shock. Bright spots dance along the edges of his vision. 

“It was a buildup of ice Grey, there’s nothing wrong,” Gilliam says in that quiet tone of his. 

It’s a lie and Grey knows they both know that. Everything is wrong. He glares up at Gilliam, freshly annoyed. The old man just stares back at him, amusement evident in his features. Grey wants to smash them all over again, the pain combining with his confusion at being left alive mounting with every second. After a few minutes it seems that Gilliam gets tired of the staring contest because he looks down at his own lap, breaking the eye contact. Grey follows his gaze and freezes. 

The book, the one that Grey had taken and had taken from him, is sitting in Gilliam’s lap. 

Time seems to narrow to a fixed point, and Grey forgets everything, even his injuries, in his burning and confused curiosity. He had always assumed that someone had stolen it, but here it is. Grey supposes that it’s not completely out of the question that the thief would return the book to Gilliam to gain his favor, but then why didn’t Gilliam punish Grey for losing it if he knew it had been lost? The questions turn over and over in his mind, unanswered. Gilliam simply watches him struggle, his expression impassive. 

After an eternity of muted and ignored sounds of the normal life of the train, Grey looks up, wanting for the first time to _ask_ his questions. He doesn’t have the words, so he makes the effort to lift his hand, and points. Gilliam’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“The book? Steven brought to me. Did you succeed in your mission?”

Grey frowns up at him. He can only assume that Gilliam is referring to his mission to teach himself to read. For some reason, admitting that he had barely started is hard. Grey doesn’t want to do it. 

Of course, Gilliam seems to know anyway. 

He holds the book up in his one remaining hand. “Do you still want to learn? I’m teaching Edgar as well. It would be no trouble for you to join.” 

Grey narrows his eyes, though there’s nowhere for his suspicion to go, not with Gilliam’s careful passivity in his way. At length, he nods, and Gilliam’s mask finally cracks into a smile. 

“Excellent,” Gilliam says, and Grey can feel his life shifting already, reshaping around these new ideas. It feels like kronole dust under his nails, a constant low burn of awareness. He couldn’t avoid it if he tried, and he had tried. 

He has his first lesson a week later, when he can finally sit up on his own again. Edgar eyes him suspiciously as he sits down. “Hello.” 

Grey nods at him and Edgar seems to relax some. “You’re doing reading too?” Grey nods again. “I’ve been doing it for ages now but I’m kind of stupid so I’m really behind.” 

From their left, Gilliam sighs. “You’re not stupid Edgar.” 

Grey leans away when Edgar leans in, thinking that he means to bite him, but he only whispers. “Yes I am.” 

Gilliam fusses at him again but Grey smiles, amused in spite of himself. He doesn’t understand Edgar, not at all, but he’s amusing. 

Reading is hard, harder than Grey would have thought even after his failed first attempt. The symbols are supposed to combine to make words, but they can be in so many different orders and make variations of sounds that it just doesn’t make any sense. It’s frustrating, but at least he’s doing better than Edgar. 

“Food,” The smaller boy says and Grey frowns down at the metal filings dust they use to trace the letters in for practice. He doesn’t know what the word is supposed to be, but he’s fairly certain it isn’t food. 

Gilliam shakes his head. “No. Was that a guess Edgar?” 

Edgar looks away like he always does when he’s lying. “No?” He sounds like he’s guessing again.

“Do not guess, it won’t help you.” 

“Will it help me get out of here?” 

Gilliam frowns and stares down at the word. He reaches down and draws in the sand, tracing out the patterns he knows better than any of them. It’s their home. 

“Train?” Gilliam prompts and smiles when Grey nods. “How did you know?”

Grey points at the T symbol and then to his head. T for Train. He remembers that. 

Things progress quickly for Grey after that. Tanya comes to visit him again and Grey does not scare her away. Sometimes they give him things for no reason, which is confusing but not always a trap, he’s learning that now. Grey has many new people that he has to manage and interact with. Gilliam explains the survivalist purpose of social behavior to him, which actually does make some sense, but it’s tiring. It seems like everything is moving faster than it used to, even the train. He tries to explain this to Gilliam with his new words, scratching them in the now familiar metal sand. 

train mas fast 

Gilliam shakes his head. “You’re mixing languages again Grey.” 

Grey shrugs and points at his words. What does it matter if Gilliam can understand them? But Gilliam insists that he replace ‘mas’ with ‘more’ for accuracy. Grey replaces ‘train’ with ‘tren’ and ‘fast’ with ‘rapido’ just to prove a point. They are all the same words. Gilliam shakes his head again but smiles at the same time, which is strange but Grey had gotten used to it. He had gotten used to so many things. 

“Alright, and no, the train is not faster.” 

Grey nods and changes ‘mas’ to ‘quiere.’ Wants. Train wants fast. 

Now Gilliam frowns. “No, it doesn’t,” he says, slowly. “The train is not alive. It doesn’t want anything. It only does what it’s told.” 

Grey snorts. This is the funniest thing Gilliam has ever said. He is a smart man, probably the smartest in the tail section, but even he can get things wrong sometimes. Grey may have just learned reading, but he knows the train is a living thing, what else would it be?


	6. Kära

The back of his shoulder is itchy from the new tattoo, but he ignores it. By now, he’s used to the feeling. Gilliam’s favorite project is to make it so everyone can understand Grey if they need to, so he has the tattoos. Numbers were the first, followed by the question words. 

Now that Grey knows how to read, he knows how to spell. And now that he has people, he has a reason to communicate. Putting Gilliam over his heart was Grey’s idea. It’s one of the most important and most frequent things he needs to say, so it makes sense.

He catches a passerby by the arm as they try to walk past him, stopping him in his tracks. The man whirls, eyes wide. At fifteen Grey is finally starting to get big. It’s inconvenient for his old hiding spots but very convenient for getting what he wants from people. 

“Er, what?” the man asks, clearly caught between wanting to get away quickly and not wanting to make an enemy out of Grey. His eyes dart away from his face, but Grey doesn’t care. It doesn’t make a difference to Grey why people do the things that they do, just that it happens. 

He points to his chest. To where _Gilliam_ sits in curved script. The man visibly relaxes. “He’s with Tanya. It’s her time.” 

Grey lets him go immediately and the man skitters away, casting one last glance over his shoulder as he goes. He not a threat, so Grey ignores it. Sometimes he sees people staring at him. He’s seen it more and more since one of McGregor’s men was stabbed in his bed last week. Grey didn’t do it, but that doesn’t matter to them, or to him. 

They’re afraid of him, which is good. He wants them to know that he killed Luca when he was just a baby. He wants them to know that he would do it again if he had to. 

There is a crowd of people packed into the next car, all stepping on each other and trying not to look at anyone in the face. Grey pushes past this one, making his way into the significantly less populated car next to Tanya’s, the inhabitants clearly giving up the desire not to hear her screaming for the luxury of a few feet of open space. Grey walks past them without a second glance, making for Tanya’s place. 

Her son is being born today amid the hurrying of the train. Nothing ever stops, not even for this. The car she lives in is only partially emptied as well. Not even the desire to give and receive some space can actually make more of it. 

Another, smaller crowd of people is gathered here, spread out around her in a semi-circle as she works. Steven holds her left hand while she beats the right on the wall, making a dull clang that reverberates all the way up to the back of the car where Grey walks in. Gilliam is there, of course, so Grey is also present when Tanya’s son is born. 

“Wonderful, isn’t it?” Gilliam leans over and says to Grey, for him alone. 

He shrugs. It is, in a way, but it doesn’t particularly concern him. Gilliam laughs and turns his attention back to Tanya and her prize. People are crying, including Steven, and the baby. Tanya just laughs, her hair plastered all over her face. “He’s loud, my Timmy. What do you think?”

The group lets out a generalized murmur of approval that Grey doesn’t participate in, but he does nod to Tanya politely when she looks his way. She smiles back, and then turns her attention back to her son. The way she looks down on him is familiar. Grey had seen it in the eyes of lots of people, like the mother he saw kiss her child while he hid up at the ceiling years ago, thinking about his own mother who didn’t love him. He looks at Timmy and wonders if Tanya will love him enough. If anyone will, like Gilliam loves Grey and Grey loves Gilliam. It’s possible.

He looks away, distracted by the sounds of more people entering the car to look at the baby and reclaim their spaces. He glances down at Gilliam, who is safe, and puts his back to the train wall, feeling it rumble and shake comfortingly, solid beneath him. It always hold him up, no matter what. The Train and Gilliam are the only constants Grey needs for his life to run. He knows this for sure, even if Gilliam sometimes says that it isn’t true, that Grey will care for more people one day. 

“There he is,” a voice whispers nearby. Grey doesn’t turn his head. 

A second voice answers. “We shouldn’t talk here.” 

“Why not?” the first one asks, louder now, voice taut with emotion. “We shouldn’t have to be afraid of him, he’s just a kid.” 

“I don’t think he did it.” 

“Why not? He’s done it before.” 

“That was different. Besides, this was a political killing.” 

“That’s what I’m saying. Mason’s death worked for Gilliam’s agenda. You know he doesn’t want a revolution right now, he’s always talking about waiting.” 

“You think he told his pet to do it?”

“He might have,” the voice lowers so that Grey has to strain to hear. “Tensions are high, and he would do anything the old man said, even silencing McGregor’s crew.” 

Gilliam starts to head back to the back of the train, so Grey steps away from the wall, startling the two talkers. He can sense them looking at him, all nervous energy and coiled fear, but he walks away from them instead. Their words don’t concern him. His world is Gilliam’s world. Would he have killed McGregor’s man if Gilliam asked him to? Yes. Without question or fear. But he hadn’t, not this time. 

“That was interesting,” Gilliam comments mildly as they head back to their place. 

Grey shrugs, taking most of Gilliam’s weight onto himself as they pass through a more heavily populated car. It’s nothing, especially not when compared to the weight of the things Gilliam has given to him. One of the story books Grey had read from Gilliam’s stacks was about magic, the kind that comes from inhuman entities who believe in fairness and exchange. Grey read it and for a while he wished everyday that he could cut off his limbs and give them away to Gilliam, to make that magic work, but he knows now he’ll have to settle for being them instead. 

“Are you concerned?” Gilliam asks, sharp eyes peering up at him as they arrive back to their home at the far back of the tail. Grey shakes his head, smiling to let Gilliam know his feelings. Gilliam smiles back. “Good. You have nothing to be concerned about. I have no intention of asking you for such things.” 

Grey lifts his free arm and turns it to the light, showing one of his words. **Why**. 

“Because you are not some blade in the dark, you are not my spy.” 

**Why**.

Gilliam just shakes his head. “I know you are willing, but that is not what I want from you.” 

Grey considers this as they get comfortable, settling back into their place. He nods. Turns his arm again. **What**. 

Gilliam smiles, resting back against the wall. “This. I want this.” 

Grey relaxes, letting himself melt against the blankets propped up against the makeshift bed. He settles in and forgets all out about the conversation between the two men, about the killing entirely. 

Then Steven is killed. 

***

This time Tanya’s car really is empty. 

She’s lying down, curled into a ball with her baby beside her. When Grey approaches, she makes no sign of knowing that he’s there, even though he made the effort to move loudly. Gilliam is back home with Curtis, talking and planning and safe. Death hasn’t touched them there, not yet. 

When Grey stops next to her bed, Tanya turns her head. “Grey.” 

He nods to her, lowering himself to his haunches. She looks over at him, face lined and exhausted. After an eternity of silence, she starts talking right in the middle. “I just, I never expected that it would come from the inside. I never thought that one of our own would kill him. It was going to be one of the soldiers. Isn’t that stupid?” 

Grey nods because it is stupid. They are all killers, the threat comes from all of them. Steven was never very careful, it doesn’t really surprise Grey that he was taken. All the time he spent trying to get Grey to come to Tanya, to bribe him with books and cleverness, was a waste. There’s no place for waste on the train. Steven had too much of the old world in him, too much softness. 

She laughs, the sound watery and pulls him down to lay down with her. Grey lets himself be moved, reluctantly at first, but he goes. He doesn’t usually like being so close to people, but with Tanya he thinks it might be ok, and it is. He wraps his arm around her, his front to her back. 

“I’m glad you’re ok.”

Grey taps her arm to show that he’s listening since she can’t see his face or his words.

“I always worried about you, tried to protect you.” She pauses. “They- people might think you did this, but I know you didn’t.” 

Grey doesn’t try to respond. He already knows all of this. Tanya isn’t stupid. 

“Do you-” she stops and makes a strange noise, like she’s clearing her throat. “Do you think Timmy will be ok?”

He taps her arm again, sure of himself. 

“Really?” 

He leans forward and puts his forehead against the back of her head and presses. _Yes._

Some of the tension leaves Tanya’s body. She understands. Grey keeps holding on, and after a while she falls asleep, becoming dead weight against him. Grey doesn’t go to sleep. He watches the baby, which isn’t really doing anything. 

Grey stares at it and wonders if he used to be like this, all helpless and open. He supposes that he must have been at one point, but it seems impossible. He knows that his mother, who surely must have existed, didn’t love him enough to stay alive and show it. When he was a baby the train took care of him, keeping him hidden and showing him how to keep quiet until he was big enough to stay alive on his own. Until he was smart enough to find Gilliam. 

Timmy looks around sometimes, taking in the world. He’s quiet, like Grey. At one point, he smiles, and Grey’s mouth twitches back reflexively, recognizing something. 

He’s going to stay alive.


	7. beloved

Less than a week later, the tension boils over and the McGregor riots begin. Gilliam tells Grey not to go, so he doesn’t. He knows people will die, but not the people he loves. So he stays behind, listening to the fighting taking place in the cars further ahead. 

In part, it’s to root out the murderer. As much as Grey wants to stay uninvolved, he can’t ignore that fact that there’s a killer in the tail section forever. It would be enough that Gilliam wants the problem solved, but there’s now the added complication of Tanya’s involvement and the suspicion being thrown Grey’s way. 

Although Grey had originally thought that it wouldn’t be hard to figure out who was doing it, there’s only so many possible suspects and so little space, but it is. People are disappearing, and now some of them are wondering how well they really know Grey, even more than they usually do. Eventually, one of them will take matters into their own hands. It’s what Grey would do, what he probably will do when he finds the person actually responsible for this. 

He walks through the cars, keeping his gaze steady whenever it lands on another person. Very few look back. They’re terrified on multiple levels. Between the fighting up front and the fear farther back, it’s easy for Grey to move around and search through cars with impunity. No one tries to stop him from picking his way through the entire tail section, searching for evidence. It’s slow going, and it doesn’t take him long to realize that he’s going about it the wrong way. But that doesn’t mean he knows what the right way is, so he does what he always does, and so he turns back to ask Gilliam. 

“Look for the changes in behavior. For the most part, murder changes a man, makes him a different person,” Gilliam says quietly, keeping his voice down so that others won’t hear through the curtain. They don’t generally have to worry about being heard, but the riots have people quiet in the back, the contrast startling. 

Grey frowns. It hadn’t occurred to him, but he supposes it makes sense. Murder had changed him, after all. It made him more effective, more aware. It brought him to Gilliam. 

He reaches down to the sand tablet and traces a triangle, his sign for change, and then points to one of his questions words. How. 

Gilliam nods, and leans back against the train wall. “It depends. But if it was the first time, it will likely be a big change. If not, look for changes in behavior alone. See if anyone has been acting strangely. You might not find the murder weapon, but in their efforts to hide their activities, they might have drawn attention to themself.” 

Newly inspired, Grey shoots up to his feet to leave, but then jerks back around, bending down at the waist to press a kiss to Gilliam’s forehead, their ‘thank you’. Gilliam chuckles and raises a hand to pull Grey back down, kissing him in turn. He pulls away and smiles. “Finish this for me?”

Grey stands and turns, pointing to his newest addition, freshly healed. **Always**. 

***

It occurs to Grey to ask the people like he used to be, the ones that pay attention and have no attention paid to them. A few years ago, he’s sure that he would have already known who had done it. He used to spend all his time watching and listening, and no one payed attention to him because he was unattached. So he would have known, but he wouldn’t have cared. To find his killer, Grey has to find this past version of himself, the one who watches. 

He’s making a mental list of possibilities when someone calls his name. Grey turns his head slightly to see Curtis out of the corner of his eye, with Edgar close behind, looking murderous. He had been kept out of the fighting too. 

Curtis stops next to Grey’s shoulder, but Grey doesn’t turn or stop walking. He’s busy, and if Curtis wants to say something he’s welcome to do it, but not on Grey’s time. 

“Hey,” Curtis says, keeping pace with him. Grey inclines his head slightly, still thinking. The Painter might have some good information for him. No one watches the train like he does, not even Grey, not even Gilliam. His perspective might be valuable. 

“You shouldn’t be alone,” Curtis leans in and says quietly, like a warning. It’s so strange that Grey stops and turns to stare at him, confused. He reaches up to point at his questions but Curtis already understands. “I know, you’re not weak. But people are talking about you, about what they think you did.” 

Grey gives an exaggerated shrug and sees Edgar crack a smirk behind Curtis’ shoulder. Curtis looks frustrated, like he doesn’t understand that it doesn’t matter what people think, not really. Grey is going to fix it, and then it will be done. Simple. He eyes Curtis, who seems to be trying harder to communicate than Grey is, with some curiosity, but doesn’t take his jacket off to try to explain with his words. 

“It will be safer,” Curtis tries again, his voice pitched low. 

Grey shakes his head, and Curtis shakes his back. “You should stick with people, that’s all I’m saying. Think about Gilliam.” 

Grey raises an eyebrow at him. It’s a useful expression Gilliam taught him to use to convey a certain kind of surprise, one that everyone seems to understand. He is thinking about Gilliam, always. Curtis scowls. Grey turns away, ready to get back to his business. 

“Listen, look,” Curtis growls and reaches out, grabs Grey’s arm for a second before immediately dropping it again. Grey freezes, muscles locking down. But he knows Curtis, less than some, but still more than he knows most. He makes himself relax, but keeps his eyes narrowed so that Curtis knows not to do it again. It seems like Curtis does the same, letting his shoulders drop, the tension bleeding out of everyone except for Edgar, who looks close to vibrating out of his skin. 

“Sorry,” Curtis manages, lowly. Grey stares back at him, impassive. Then Curtis looks away and sighs. “And I am sorry. For everything. We should have looked out for you the way we- the way I looked out for Edgar. So, sorry.” 

Grey blinks. Curtis just keeps staring at him, expectant. Behind him, Edgar is frowning, apparently just as confused as Grey is. Grey looks back at Curtis, and nods. He doesn’t know what else to do, but people generally accept a nod as whatever kind of response they’re looking for. Let Curtis see what he wants to see, Grey has something he needs to do. 

Curtis frowns, not as satisfied as Grey would have assumed. “Ok?” 

Grey nods again, already looking away. Curtis sighs. “Ok. I just wanted you to know.” 

He turns to go, but Edgar stays, too small to be noticed right away. Grey turns back to look at him, curious now. But Edgar just stares, unusually quiet for once. Grey shrugs his jacket off his shoulders to show his questions, pointing to **what** first. 

Edgar cocks his head. “Do you ever think about where we’d be if we weren’t here?” he asks quietly, somehow managing to be even more confusing than Curtis was. 

Grey points forward, in the direction of the front section, and Edgar shakes his head. “No. I mean, not here at all. Not on the train.” 

Grey shakes his head slowly, shifting his finger down to **why**. Edgar glances down at it and then back up, frowning. The expression makes him look just like Curtis. 

“Because,” Edgar says, but then doesn’t say anything else. Grey stares at him for several seconds, waiting for the rest. Because what? Because that’s how it used to be? It isn’t that way now. Even if it was, what would he be? Would Timmy exist? 

Would Gilliam be there? Grey knows that he comes from a land place called England, but he hadn’t known where the people who have been Grey’s parents lived. It would be too much of a risk. Grey might never have found him, and then what would he do? Edgar is still quiet, so much so that they can still hear fighting at the front. Grey shakes his head, and leaves him there. 

***

The Painter won’t talk to him. 

Rather, he talks, but only to tell Grey to go away. 

“I’m serious kid, if you ever need another piece of ink, you won’t get it from me if you don’t quit this,” he says, glaring from his palace of blankets and paper. Grey glares back, considering tipping him over. Even two years ago, he would have done it. But Gilliam wouldn’t approve. They need him for Grey’s words. 

It doesn’t mean, however, that Grey needs to be nice. He turns his head and spits on the floor. Pointless but effective. When he looks back, the Painter is giving him a flat look, eyebrows raised. 

“You done? Good. Come back when there’s not an active riot and you’re not a murder suspect!” he hisses, and turn his back. Grey stares at it, vulnerable, exposed. Ridiculous. He walks away. 

The train provides him with a wide path, easily leading him where he needs to be. He just doesn’t know where that is yet. Grey climbs up to the balcony level, careful when it creaks, to watch people. Most of them are watching him. One is not. 

Grey narrows his eyes at the passing woman, wondering what makes her different. Acting strangely, just like Gilliam said. He drops back down to the floor, scaring an old man, and follows her. 

When he gets within ten feet, he gets his answer. Kronole. He turns away, disgusted, and then freezes. He hadn’t visited the kronole man in a long time. He’s the king of those acting strangely, of babbling and fever dreams. Grey turns around, and heads for storage. 

He’s exactly where Grey left him, squinting at him in the dark.

“Little one?” 

Grey stares down at him. He seems so much smaller than he had been before. He bobs his head, and the man smiles. “Wonderful. Just- what?”

Eying the barrel critically, Grey steps into an adjacent one. There’s no way they’ll fit in the same one now, but he needs the man comfortable. Grey doesn’t know if he can read Grey’s letters,or if he’s even willing to try. When he sees Grey sliding into the metal container, the man laughs. Thankfully, it appears to be one of his more lucid days. 

“Just like old times, of course,” he licks his cracked lips, a little blood coming through. “Can I interest you in any product?” 

Grey shakes his head. He makes a cutting motion across his neck with his hand and then point to the question symbol on his arm, holding it up for the man to see. The man leans back and blinks. “Well I’m not going to kill you.” 

It’s not perfect, but it’s workable. Grey nods and points to one of his questions. **who**. 

The man cocks his head. “No one. I never-” he suddenly cuts himself off, craning his neck to look at the entrance of their lane in the shelves. A man stands at the end of it, wide eyed and sweating. Tyler. One of the fighters, except he’s not fighting. A coward, then. Grey narrows his eyes at him, and he turns away, disappearing again. 

“See what you’ve done,” the kronole man tisks. “You gone and scared away one of my best customers.” 

Grey blinks. Then he looks back at the now empty space. A coward or a killer? Tyler hadn’t been a customer here when Grey was spending time hiding, which means something had changed. 

He hoists himself out of the barrel without sparing the small man a second glance. Finding Tyler takes only seconds. He’s nestled in an empty corner of the second storage car, knife in hand and staring. 

“I knew you’d come. You were always a smart little shit.” Tyler turns his head and spits. Grey just stares back, impassive. 

“Not going to kill me?” Tyler sneers and shakes his head. “Why not? You did it before.” 

Luca. Grey tilts his head and remembers Tyler spending time with Luca. He considers the relative value of taking Tyler alive. But they have nowhere to put him. He’ll die either way. He takes a step forward and sees Tyler shrink back, just a little. 

“How could they side with you? Because you’re a kid?” He shakes his head. “You killed him! There are no kids anymore.” 

Timmy. But he’s a kid without a father, just like Grey was, because of this man. Edgar, who had Curtis. Still. Grey had heard rumors. Ones that Gilliam confirmed. What if they were somewhere else? 

Tyler’s eyes are clouding, spilling over. “You killed him. How could- he only wanted to love you. He told me himself.” He shakes his head, crying harder. Grey leans away instinctively, images of Luca coming back in waves. His hand wrapped around Grey’s arm, squeezing until the bone bent, his blood all over Grey’s jacket. 

“It was my fault. I let him go and do it. I never should have loved him so much. It’s so much to lose. As long as you have that, you’re weak,” he hisses, eyes wild. 

Grey stares at him, but feels no pity. Where was he when Luca died? Grey never saw him, hadn’t seen him once in the years since. He didn’t try hard enough. It’s a question of drive, and determination. Grey will never fail the people he loves. 

Grey slides his hand into his pocket and pulls out his knife. Tyler’s gaze drops to it and stays there. “Go ahead. They’ll just turn on you faster. I got it started, so you go ahead and finish it.” 

“Is that right?” another voice calls from the other side of the car. Grey bends down slightly to look through the shelves. He sees Curtis standing near the edge of the aisle, Tanya at his shoulder, her face set in hard lines. Curtis smiles at him very slightly, and then lets the expression drop. “You come with us Tyler, it’s done.” 

Tyler blinks, and then tries to run. Grey catches him, wrenching the knife from his grasp and giving him a warning scratch with his own, right across his cheek. He freezes just as Curtis rounds the corner. He rushes to Grey’s back, stopping there. 

A hand closes over Grey’s knife, but he doesn’t look away. 

“I’ve got it Grey. You’ve done enough,” Curtis says, quietly. “I’ve got it.” 

Grey frowns, still face to face with Tyler, who has gone still and quiet. Tyler put Grey’s life, and Gilliam’s at risk. He hurt Tanya, and Timmy. He shakes his head. Curtis’ other hand curls around his shoulder. “You did everything else. Let me take care of this for you, ok?” 

“Grey,” Tanya calls from the end of the aisle. “Let’s go.” 

He sighs, and does as she says, handing the knife over to Curtis and stepping back. Tyler’s eyes never leave his. He starts talking again, but Grey ignores him, turning his back and trusting Curtis to protect it. Tanya holds out her arm when he reaches her. Grey eyes it, unsure about what to do, but then she wraps it around his shoulders. 

“Thank you,” she says quietly, into his ear. 

Grey nods and points to his chest. Tanya nods, leading him away. “Yes, we’ll go to him now.” 

Satisfied, Grey allows himself to be led, Tyler’s screams fading into the background and Timmy’s cries fading in as they get closer to Tanya’s place. She trades holding Grey for holding her son, and they keep going, all the way to the back. 

Grey watches her as they walk, thinking about Tyler’s strange words. Tanya doesn’t look weak to him, but if Grey understands her correctly, she has everything to lose. Tyler’s view of love must be warped, just as badly as Luca’s was. But Grey sees. He’s been watching love his entire life, and now he’s lived it. He can’t see it as a weakness. 

Grey loves Gilliam. He loves Tanya, he loves Edgar, and he loves Timmy. He loves, and it’s enough.


End file.
